


think about me

by fanficsandthings



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-16 22:01:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29707188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanficsandthings/pseuds/fanficsandthings
Summary: bucky barnes and y/n are in the middle of splitting up, and being part of the avengers makes things kind of complicated.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes/Original Female Character(s)/Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 50





	1. beginning of the end

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A Marriage Story](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/766761) by Noah Baumbach. 



> well i just set up my ao3 i hope this works i've never done this before, these are originally posted to tumblr i guess it wouldn't hurt to post them here too :)
> 
> warning: mentions of divorce

You found yourself in the office of a lawyer that cost way too much. Her office was in a high rise in Manhattan that overlooked Central Park, which is probably why she charged hundreds per hour. 

Bucky had sent over papers, and you couldn’t make out what they meant to save your life. You didn’t even think you were at the part where you sign the papers. Granted, you knew it was coming, but you thought you still had a few months. 

“So these are pretty straightforward,” your attorney told you from across her mahogany desk. “It basically certifies that you’ve been living apart for a certain amount of time, and that you both agree to the terms of the divorce.” 

You started to zone out as she launched into the terms that were outlined in the papers. On your attorney’s desk were pens which had her name engraved in gold and a glass paperweight on top of a heavy stack of papers. The stack probably contained the endings to countless other marriages. A copy of her NYU diploma hung on her wall next to a picture of what you assumed to be her dog. 

“I’m sorry,” you cut her off. “I was hoping to keep this under an hour.” If you let her keep talking, you’d be broke by the time the divorce was over. 

“In that case, blue tabs are signatures, green are initials.” She pushed a thick manila folder across the desk and placed a pen on top of the stack. 

“Um,” you started hesitantly. You pulled your hand away from the desk. “Doesn’t Bucky have to be here?”

Your lawyer shook her head. “You can sign them and I can send them back to his attorney. If you want to wait for him-” 

“No, no, that’s okay.” You picked up the pen and ran your fingers over the gold lettering before clicking the back of it. You bit your lip as you opened up the folder. 

Your phone suddenly buzzed, and you jumped to grab it. An Avenger’s mission alert popped up on your phone. “Shit, I’m sorry,” you said, getting up from your seat. “I’m going to come back, I promise.” 

“Y/n-” 

“Next Tuesday?” you asked. You pulled your jacket off the back of your seat and left before your attorney could respond. 

\- . - 

“So what’s for dinner?” asked Clint cheerfully, strolling off of the quinjet. 

Another Avenger’s mission completed without a hitch. When the whole team was assembled, missions almost seemed easy. There were few things that could stand in the way of the god of thunder, a green mutated monster, a genius billionaire, a couple of super soldiers, and a few highly trained Shield agents. 

“Thai?” suggested Steve, who was walking hand in hand with Bucky. 

You watched as Bucky stepped off the quinjet. He tucked a loose strand of his brown, flowy hair behind his ear as he laughed at something Steve said. The soft orange light of the sunset fell across his face and highlighted his features. 

Thor placed his hand on your shoulder as he moved past you to exit the quinjet. You forced yourself to look away from Buck. It hurt to look at him sometimes. And you had to pretend like everything was fine, you had to go on missions and communicate and work together even though everything was definitely notfine between you two. 

“Mm, I was thinking more like pizza,” retorted Clint. 

Stark, who was already on the helipad, shook his head. “Barton, you have pizza every other day.” 

You and Natasha were the last off of the quinjet. When you first joined the Avengers, you learned the most from Natasha. You were both former Shield agents and she sort of took you under her wing. She taught you virtually everything you knew about being an Avenger. 

“You boys can have pizza,” smiled Nat. She threw an arm around your shoulder. “Y/n and I are having sushi, then we’re going out.” 

A quiet ripple of laughter came up from the other Avengers. You instinctively looked up to see if Bucky cracked a smile, but his back was faced to you. You looked away and forced a smile for Natasha. 

“Alright, who’s in for pizza?” asked Tony, looking from Avenger to Avenger. “Bruce?” 

Banner was just stepping off of the quinjet, completely focused on the tablet in his hands. “No thanks, gotta finish this mission report.” 

“No one reads those, you know.” 

The team dispersed into the living floor of Avenger’s Tower. Sometimes the size of the tower still amazed you. There were so many floors that you lost count. Two people could live in the tower and never see each other simply because of the vastness of it.

Even so, you’d been living in New Jersey for the past few months. Apparently you had to live apart from your spouse for a certain amount of time to file for divorce. The team was under the impression that you’d moved out because you wanted to work with Shield more, but the truth was you and Bucky were in the middle of splitting up. Honestly, you thought the process was way more complicated than it should be. At this point you just wanted it to be over with. 

“I’ll grab a shower and meet you back here in 20,” you told Natasha. 

She nodded and headed in the other direction. You made for the elevator. You heard Bucky’s voice behind you, but you didn’t turn around. You knew Bucky was probably headed for the elevators too, he usually liked to shower after missions. There were footsteps, and suddenly Bucky was right next to you. You looked over at him and his expression turned sour. 

You let out a short sigh as you waited for the elevator doors to open. You silently cursed Stark for making what seemed like the world’s slowest elevator. You wanted to say something to Buck, anything really, because you missed him so damn much, but you knew he didn’t feel the same way. 

_Ding._

The elevator doors finally opened, and both you and Buck stepped inside. There was an awkward silence for a few seconds. 

“You told Natasha,” he said. His harsh tone reflected the mood of the crumbling relationship. The ending was bitter and slow and painful, and you were sick of it as much as he was. 

You blinked. You weren’t sure how he found out about you talking to Natasha about your relationship. It was probably just because he knew you so well, or maybe because Natasha threw him a dirty look. That’s how you knew Bucky had told Steve. 

“Well, you told Steve,” you retorted. 

Another silence. You had both agreed not to tell anyone until the divorce proceedings were completely finished. 

“Are we going to that mediator thing tomorrow?” you asked hesitantly. 

You hated the idea of a mediator, the idea that you needed someone to help you talk to each other. 

“Yeah,” Bucky replied curtly. 

The elevator came to a stop, and Bucky stepped out without hesitation. That’s how he was doing things now: without hesitation. He decided the relationship was over, hired a lawyer, and started moving on. It wasn’t as easy for you. It was hard to let go of the person who changed your life, and he resented you for trying to fix things when he wanted it to be over.

You thought maybe a part of you would always love him. You’d always be grateful to him for bringing you into the Avengers, even though he did it just to get a chance at a date with you. 

“Whatever,” you mumbled to yourself. For some reason it was way harder for you to let go of things than him. You tended to give yourself time to feel all your feelings, while Bucky just stuffed them down and continued on with his life. Maybe you needed to be a little more like him. 

\- . -

Nat had brought you to a trendy restaurant with colored lights and modern art. She asked for a bottle of wine that was way too expensive. You noticed how many couples were seated around you before anything else. 

“So,” started Natasha. “How are things going?” 

You readjusted in the leather booth. You felt like you needed more wine for this conversation. “Are you asking how my divorce is going?” 

Nat nodded fervently as she snapped her chopsticks apart. “Yeah, just get it off of your chest.” 

You thought the whole point of going out was to avoid your problems. You silently contemplating whether you should go into it or not before grabbing your glass and down the rest of it’s contents. 

“It fucking sucks,” you said a little louder than you should’ve. “He’s just- just so damn rude to me. I think he’s trying to make sure I know he wants me gone, and trust me I know he wants me gone.” You huffed out a sigh. “I just don’t know if I’m ready to move on.”

“I mean, you remember how he was when he first met me,” you continued. “He needed, like, five different types of therapy and he could literally become a murder-robot in half a second. And when I first joined the team he’d sneak into my room after he had a nightmare, and, you know...” Your voice trailed off. 

“What happened between you two anyways?” asked Nat. As usual, she had no sense of boundaries, but somehow you found it endearing. “Everyone thought you two were like- the new Starks.” 

You thought about it for a second. There were a lot of reasons you were splitting up. You couldn’t really pinpoint when it started, but you just started fighting and stopped talking. It progressed from disagreeing on missions to yelling about what to have for breakfast. At a certain point you’d look at him and you wouldn’t recognize him anymore. He didn’t look at you like he loved you; when he looked at you there was only contempt in his eyes. 

“He just... fell out of love with me,” you sighed. “At some point I stopped being that lovestruck, wide-eyed Shield agent and I became my own person, I became an Avenger. I built a name for myself. And, I don’t know, I guess he didn’t like that."

Nat raised an eyebrow. “You think he wanted you to feel...” she waved her hand around as she searched for the word. “Insignificant?” 

You shook your head. “No, it’s not that, I just think... I think he didn’t want to see me as his equal.” 

“Damn.” 

“I know, right?” You forced a smile and tried to laugh in spite of yourself. “I’m thinking of taking a position at Sword.” 

Natasha’s eyes widened. “Sword? On the west coast? Why?”

“I have to leave. I... I’m still in love with him. It’s terrible, but a part of me still loves him.” It hurt to admit that. You felt the heartache from your chest all the way to your fingertips. You knew you couldn’t stay with the Avengers. Seeing Bucky everyday, knowing that he wasn’t in love with you anymore, that would hurt ten times more than what you were feeling now. 

“You could get a permanent position at Shield,” Natasha suggested. “It’s all the way in DC, you’d barely have to see him.” 

You knew Natasha wouldn’t be too excited about your decision to leave. She was your best friend after all. “I just can’t, Nat,” you sighed. “I can’t keep moving backwards. If I go back to Shield I’m back where I started six years ago.” 

“I get that, but do you really want to leave the Avengers?” asked Natasha. 

You blinked. “What?” 

“Do you really want to leave the Avengers?” she asked again. “I mean- you work so hard just to be a part of the team, I know you do. Plus, we’re your family.”

“Natasha-“

“Look, if you leave, we’ll still all be there for you,” she interrupted. “But you’re losing your husband. Does that really have to mean you have to lose your position too?”

You never really thought about it in that way. When you decided to go to Sword, you weren’t thinking of yourself, you were thinking of Bucky. You thought if you stayed, you’d have to see him everyday. You’d have to put up with the hateful glances and bitter exchanges forever. You never thought about losing the Avengers.

\- . -

The next day, you found yourself dragging yourself out of bed to get to the mediator’s office in time. The mediator was located a few blocks away from Avenger’s tower, which was... convenient. You and Buck went there separately and met in the waiting room. 

“Before we start, I’d like to know where you two are,” the mediator started. “Are you two in agreement on where to start, or are we going to have to have some difficult conversations?” He seemed polite and inviting, almost like a therapist. Historically, Bucky hated therapy. 

You rubbed your temples. In hindsight, bar hopping with Nat last night wasn’t the best idea. Your head was pounding, and it wasn’t just because of the hangover.

The mediator’s office was full of objects that were supposed to make it feel homey. Colorful throw pillows, a few fidget toys, and a shelf carrying dozens of heavy books. The setting was supposed to make you feel at ease, but you were the opposite.

You and Bucky were sitting on opposite sides of a cream colored couch. His body was closed off to you, his arms were crossed over his chest and he was leaning on the couch arm.

“I think we’re on the same page,” Bucky started. He was looking at the mediator, not you. “We don’t have that many assets. We both have portfolios that Tony set up for us, and they’re going to remain in our names.”

You stopped yourself from rolling your eyes. He was talking for you, not with you, which was the whole point of the mediator.

“She’s taking a new job on the west coast, and my lawyer- or I’m planning on helping with moving expenses,” Bucky continued.

The way he was talking for you was irritating. It seemed like he wanted control of the situation. He wasn’t talking to you, he was talking over you. You knew by the way he was talking that he didn’t want you to get a word in edgewise. 

“I don’t know if I’m going to take the job,” you murmured. You knew it would piss him off, but in the moment you didn’t care. In all honesty, you didn’t know what you wanted to do, but you didn’t want to make a firm decision yet. You didn’t want to eliminate the Avengers as an option. 

He suddenly turned to face you, his brow furrowed, and a stern look on his face. “What?” He said with resentment. He was angry, you saw it burning in his eyes. You felt his irritation radiate into through the room. 

“I’m not sure if I’m going to take the job with Sword,” you snapped, almost in defiance.

Bucky scoffed. “Then where are you going?” He didn’t even think the Avengers were a possibility for you. He had turned into a person with so much resentment that he didn’t even want to talk with you. 

“I don’t know,” you retorted. “I might stay with the Avengers.”

“No, you won’t,” Bucky said firmly, as if he could control where you worked. 

“If I may,” the mediator interjected. “Many couples continue to work together even after their divorce. You’d be surprised how many couples value their work over than their personal life.”

“Where is this coming from?” Bucky asked bitterly.

You looked at him incredulously. “Well maybe if you fucking talked to me-“

“If I could add something-” the mediator started.

“No, she never even mentioned this,” Bucky said to him. Then Bucky turned to you. “You never even mentioned this. You are the one who wanted to go the Sword, I didn’t come up with that idea.”

You hated the way he snapped at the mediator and the way he snapped at you. “We’ll maybe I want to say with the Avengers,” you said back to him. “Maybe- maybe that’s what I need.”

Bucky glared at you from across the couch. “You are only with the Avengers because of me,” he said firmly.

You couldn’t look at him. What he said was true; he did invite you to meet the Avengers. He opened the door for you, but you felt like you earned your place their on your own. But he didn't see you that way.

You couldn’t stand arguing with him anymore. Your phone rang, and you jumped to grab it. Nick Fury was calling you.

“I’m sorry, I have to take this,” you told the mediator.

The mediator nodded, and Bucky scoffed as you walked out of the room.

“Hey,” you said into your phone once you were safely in the hallway. You bit your lip to keep the tears at bay.

“Y/n, I need you in DC now,” Fury barked over the phone.

“Uh- how urgent is it?” you asked hesitantly. Part of you was grateful that Fury called, but at the same time you felt like you needed to finish what you started. The whole part of seeing a mediator was to work things out.

“When I stay now I mean yesterday,” Fury said firmly. “So make it happen.”

_Click_.

You closed your eyes and leaned against one of the hallway walls. Bucky would hate you for bailing, but you had to do it. Fury seemed pretty serious. Besides, it seemed like he hated you already.

\- . - 


	2. know your worth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> shield mission time :p

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well i forgot to mention that my tumblr is @fanficsreblogs-and-shit
> 
> warnings: mentions of gsw, slight gore, surgery

You slept as much as you could on the ride to DC. Fury sent a driver to take you to Shield headquarters, and it made you feel important.

Fury’s office was on the 20-something floor. It had glass windows on one side and a high tech holographic screen on the other. The office was almost as big as Tony’s living room.

“Nick?” you called out.

The director spun around in his chair. “It’s Fury,” he said sternly. He glared at you with the one eye he had left.

“You called for me, Director Fury?” you said half sarcastically. You were already operating on a short fuse.

“Hostage situation with a few diplomats, the Strike team is waiting for you,” Fury announced. Fury had a presence that screamed authority. Every word that came out of his mouth sounded like a declaration. 

You scoffed quietly and crossed your arms over your chest. “I don’t know why you waited for me. I’m not a leader.” In the Avengers, you didn’t mind letting other people take the lead, you could accept that Stark or Cap knew better than you.

“You don’t think your a leader,” Fury countered. “Because you’ve been working with geniuses and demigods for the past six years. But trust me, you are a leader.”

He had a point. You’d been surrounded by people who haven’t given your the chance to lead. Nonetheless, you were doing pretty well as an Avenger, even if you weren’t team captain.

Fury leaned forward, resting his forearms on his desk. “Are you still considering working for Sword?” His tone shifted from commanding to more sincere. He seemed to have a soft spot for you, and for the love of god you couldn’t figure out why.

You were surprised that he brought up something from your personal life. “It’s up in the air.”

“Well, I hope you’re still considering coming back to Shield,” he continued, his voice just slightly more gentle. “I’ve talked to the board, and they all agree that you’d be an asset.”

Your eyes widened a bit. Nick Fury didn’t often speak highly of other people, much less pursue people for a job. “I’ll consider it,” you said as professionally as possible. “Thank you.”

Fury gave you a curt nod before leaning back into his seat. “Now please, get out of my office,” he commanded. 

You couldn’t help but to grin. That was more like the Fury you knew.

\- . -

A week later and you were still wrapping up the hostage mission. All the hostages were recovered and safe on the jet, but one of your agents was down. He was shot in the shoulder after he directly ignored a signal of yours to stand down. 

The jet hummed as sped through the air. Turbulence was starting to become a major issue as you tried to bandage up an agent’s fresh wounds. The Shield-issued quinjets weren’t as steady as the ones that Tony designed for his own use. 

“Fucking rookies,” you murmured to yourself. A fresh stream of adrenaline was rushing through your veins, but you were trying to hide it. “Do we have more gauze?”

“No,” replied another Strike team agent, who was digging through a first aid kit. “We have needles, you wanna sew him up?”

“No, I can’t do that,” you replied, trying to keep your tone even. The jet was too shaky, and the bullet was still lodged somewhere underneath the agent’s collarbone. 

The injured agent seemed to be on the verge of losing consciousness. He had been losing blood for at least a half hour, and you were worried that the bullet nicked some sort of major blood vessel. 

“Stay with me!” You pushed down harder on his shoulder to try and slow the bleeding, but the blood was seeping through the last of the bandages. He was bleeding at a rate that was too quick for you to stop. 

“Fuck, it hurts,” the agent murmured, flinching at the pressure on his shoulder. 

“I know, I know,” you said as soothingly as possible. “What’s you’re name?” you asked in attempt to put him at ease. 

“Jackson Reeves,” he said through labored breathing. 

You were starting to remember his file. Fury notified you when he joined the Strike team. He worked for Shield for two years before he was assigned to the Strike team, he had gone through the Shield training program. 

“How long have you been on the Strike team, Reeves?” you asked, even though you knew the answer. 

“Two weeks.” He closed his eyes tightly and his breathing hitched. 

“So it’s still fun, huh?” you tried to joke. You wanted to keep him awake. You needed to keep him awake. You knew if he passed out there was a good chance he wouldn’t wake up again. 

He tried to smile. You remembered seeing him before the mission started, he was still excited by the idea of a mission. You used to be the same way when you first became a field agent. 

“I remember my first field mission,” you told him, trying to give him something to focus on other than his shoulder. “We were in Brazil and it was hot and sticky, and everyone was in 40 pound gear, but I was still over the moon just to be there.”

Reeves tried to focus his eyes on you. “Sounds about right.” He pulled on the collar of his own tactical vest. 

“Hey, take his vest off,” you called to a few other agents. 

They unbuckled his vest and tried their best to pull it off without disturbing the bandages you were holding to his shoulder. You watched as his chest heaved up and down. 

“And my first injury,” you continued. “Shot in the right side of my chest. Collapsed lung and two broken ribs. I was scared out of my mind but my team had me.”

“Your team had you,” Reeves repeated weakly. His eyes were shut tightly and his jaw was clenched in pain. 

“How far out are we?” you called to the pilot. 

“Ten minutes,” he called back. He had been booking it since the team had boarded the jet.

You nodded. “Did you call for a med evac?”

“Yeah, they know we’re coming in,” the pilot responded.

Reeve’s squirmed from underneath your hands, and his eyes were becoming wild. “Am I gonna fucking die?” he asked in between desperate breaths. He was getting disoriented and anxious from blood loss. 

“Everyone here is trying to prevent that,” you tried to reassure him. You learned about trauma care during Shield training, but it was different when you were experiencing it first hand. You knew he was probably close to passing out, he lost about three pints of blood already. 

Just as the jet was landing, Reeves lost consciousness. Luckily there were paramedics waiting for you at the Shield landing site. The other agents rushed the former hostages off the plane and you continued to hold pressure. 

“We’ve got it from here, Agent y/l/n,” a paramedic reassured you. She moved your hands off of the agent’s injury and started holding pressure as a few other paramedics loaded Reeves onto a stretcher and carried him off the plane. They gave him an oxygen mask and temporarily sealed off his wounds.

“He’s lost about three pints and he has probable head trauma,” you called after them. You looked around, and suddenly found that you were the only one still in the jet cabin. “Well shit,” you murmured, as your heart rate slowly returned to its normal rate.

“Good work, y/n,” said the pilot. He rested a hand on your shoulder as he stepped off the plane. 

You made a quiet _pft_ sound. “One of my agents got shot.”

“And you handled it pretty damn well.”

“Whatever,” you murmured to yourself as you finally got off the plane. You decided to go to the medbay and wait for an update on your agent. The Shield medbay was open 24/7 because agents were constantly coming and going. You plopped yourself down on a cot as you waited for a nurse to come up to you. 

You were tired. Now that the mission was over, you had to stop avoiding your marriage problems. You felt like you were dealing with more stress than one person should. All you wanted to do for the foreseeable future was to sleep on that stiff medbay cot. 

“Here,” said a nurse, who had caught you off guard. She was handing you a few towels. 

You looked down and realized your hands were caked with dried blood. 

“Would you like a fresh change of clothes?” the nurse asked. She had a friendly smile on her face, which was unusual for Shield workers. You found it refreshing. 

“Yeah, thanks.” You took the gratefully took the towels and began to wipe off your hands. “Hey, have you heard about that agent? Reeves?”

“He’s being treated in the next room. Would you like to see him?”

You nodded, and the nurse led you into an exam room down the hall. A few nurses were rushing around the room, while one doctor was carefully working on his shoulder. He was hooked up to an IV and was receiving a blood transfusion.

“How’s he doing?” you asked the doctor. 

“Good,” he told you. He knotted off the last of the stitched. “It was a relatively easy fix.”

“Good, good,” you sighed with relief. You looked the poor agent up and down. He was barely awake and probably high on pain meds. He looked calm for the first time that whole night. 

“I’m done here, he just has to wait for the blood transfusion to finish up and get some rest,” the doctor told you. He got up from his seat. “Bandage him up and get him to recovery,” he said to a nurse. 

“I’ll take care of it,” you told a nurse. You grabbed a bandage off the counter and sat down next to Reeves as the doctor and nurses filed out of the room. 

Reeves’ eyes slowly met yours. “Hey,” he murmured. His shirt had been cut off and his tactical gear was hanging off the edge of the bed. 

“Hey.” You gently pressed gauze against his stitches. “You okay?”

“Yeah, great.” He leaned his head back against his pillow. He had soft features and gentle eyes, which contrasted the more weathered agents of the Strike team. 

You wrapped a bandage around his shoulder to hold the gauze in place. “Good, ‘cause you had us worried for a bit there.”

Reeves looked you up and down. “Sorry I ruined your shirt,” he said quietly. 

You looked down and realized your tactical gear was splattered with blood. “Oh- it’s okay,” you started. “This stuff isn’t meant to be clean anyways.”

“Mhm.”

“I told you to stand down,” you reminded him softly, as you finished wrapping his shoulder. “Am I going to have to give you a talk about how there’s a hierarchy for a reason?”

“I saved the mission and you know it,” he retorted. He was cocky, almost flirty. 

“Which is why I’m not going to write you up,” you told him in a firm tone to remind him who was in charge. 

His eyes widened a little, then he cracked a grin. “You saved my life... I feel like I should ask you out, like on a date.”

You you gave him a half-hearted smile. You knew how navigate a hostage situation, but you didn’t know how to respond to this. You felt your cheeks grow hot for some inexplicable reason. “You know what they say about relationships formed during traumatic events,” you said with a sympathetic grin. 

Reeves shook his head. “What do they say?”

“That they suck,” you continued gently, getting up from your seat. “But I will see you on the training floor when you’re all healed up, yeah?” You placed your hand on his for a second before walking away. 

It had been so long since someone had flirted with you that you had almost forgotten what it felt like. You had almost forgotten that it was something you were worthy of. 

You finally slipped your tactical vest off on your way out of the medbay. You carried it in one hand as you made for the exit, checking for any damage you had to repair. Suddenly, a figure appeared in the doorway, blocking your exit. 

“Y/n l/n?”

Your eyes widened at the person standing in front of you. Monica Rambeau, the director of Sword. You’d heard countless stories about her, you had talked to her office, but you had never met her in person. 

“Yeah, that’s me,” you said, an awestruck smile across your face. You held your hand out to greet her, but then realized there were still traces of dried blood on your fingers. You hastily looked yourself up and down and realized you were less than presentable. “Sorry, I look so- I just got off a mission,” you tried to explain. 

“Totally understand,” she responded. “Should we have a seat?” She had an air of authority about her, but also a warmth that Fury didn’t have. You looked up to her for sure, her and her mother were a pioneers for badass women.

“Sure, yes,” you said a little awkwardly as you followed her to one of the stiff medical cots. “What brings you here?” you asked. 

“Well, you haven’t given my office a definitive answer about the job opening,” she invited. “I was hoping to get a firm answer from you.” She seemed professional and open at the same time. 

Your eyes widened. You thought it was crazy that she came all the way to DC to talk to you, that would be like Nicky Fury flying cross country just to meet a job candidate. “Oh- yeah, sorry about that. It’s complicated, there’s a lot of... personal issues at hand.”

She looked at you as if she was waiting for you to continue. 

You silently cursed yourself as you opened your mouth to speak. “I- I’m in the middle of a divorce, and I was just putting out feelers,” you tried to explain. “I’m not sure if I’m ready to leave the Avengers.” 

“And why is that?” Monica asked, keeping a strong tone but with empathy in her eyes. 

You felt like you had already shared too much about your personal life. “It’s complicated,” you said again. 

“I work with complicated all day every day,” Monica told you in a warm tone. “I work extraterrestrials, literal aliens, who’ve had their entire planets explode. It can really put your problems in perspective.”

“I... never really had a family,” you told her hesitantly. “When I joined the Avengers I felt like I finally found that family. I don’t know if I’m ready to give that up.”

You looked up to find Monica looking at you with sympathetically. 

“Shit, I’m sorry, you didn’t ask for all that,” you faltered. “I really don’t think I’m worth all this trouble, you didn’t have to fly out here.”

“Now why would you think that?” Monica countered in a disbelieving tone. “You’re an Avenger. Anyone would be lucky to have you.”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “I'm not a superhero. I was teaching kickboxing classes in the mall for crying out loud, I mean I had a martial arts background but that’s what I was doing with it. I was looking for a second job and one thing led to another and I was enrolled in the Shield training program and then it totally consumed my life.”

Monica nodded. “I know the feeling. Working so hard, just trying to make something for yourself.”

“Yeah, exactly. And then Bucky showed up, he had this whole tough guy act, and he asked to show me around the Avenger’s facility, and I just- just fell head over heels.” You looked at your hands. “I guess... I don’t know. He just sees me as his equal. He doesn’t think I can- I mean, I just lead a very difficult and very successful mission. But he doesn’t see me that way. So it’s over, you know, it has to be.”

You realized Monica was looking at you in confoundment, and you couldn’t tell if it was good or bad. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” you told her. “That was way too much, I-”

“No, no, don’t apologize,” said Monica. “I’m glad you told me. And honestly, you deserve to be with someone who sees you as the strong person you are. Or, hell, just be with yourself if that’s what you want.” She placed a hand on yours. “You _are_ a superhero. I had to come all this way because I had to be sure.”

You looked at her in anticipation. “Sure about...?”

“I know you applied to be a field agent, but I wanted to offer you a different position. I want you to become director of our field operations. You can recruit, you can train, honestly you could do whatever you want.”

“Wow,” you said with wide eyes. “That’s definitely- I definitely have a lot to think about.”

“Of course,” she replied with a smile, standing up. “And Nicky Fury speaks very highly of you, and we both know how rare that is.”

“Yeah,” you laughed for a second. 

Monica smiled, then stood up. “Right, so you’ll let us know?”

“Yes, for sure,” you smiled. “Thank you so much.”

\- . - 


	3. interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> smut smut smut smut smut smut smut smut smut smut smut smut smut smut smut smut smut smut smut smut smut smut smut smut smut smut smut smut smut smut smut smut smut smut smut smut smut smut smut smut smut smut smut smut smut smut smut smut smut smut smut smut smut smut smut smut smut smut smut smut smut smut smut smut smut smut smut smut smut smut

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: smut

The next night, you found yourself at another one of Stark’s parties. These things were elaborate and expensive, and usually consisted of Tony filling his penthouse with political allies, business partners, superheroes, and celebrities. You usually found these kind of things amusing, as you got to meet people you thought you’d only ever see on tv. But tonight you were annoyed more than anything else.

You had put on a dress, a nice dress at that. It was from some sort of fancy designer, Pepper gave it to you as a gift when you first moved in. It was floor length and covered in sequins, and it had a leg slit that went all the way up your thigh. Bucky used to like it a lot. You realized it was one of the last outfits you had at the tower. 

You heard a few murmurs down the hall through your open door. 

“Buck, don’t,” you heard Steve say firmly. 

“Stay out of it,” Bucky growled. 

Two pairs of footsteps were approaching, then your bedroom door swung open violently. You spun around to see Bucky in the doorway, with Steve close behind him. 

“Where the fuck have you been?” he exclaimed. “You’re gone for a week and you suddenly show up to get a little drunk at Stark’s party!?” Steve put a hand on his shoulder, but Buck shrugged him off. 

You looked him up and down. He was wearing a suit, and a nice one at that. You were there when Stark got it tailored for him. “Where I am is none of your business anymore,” you said as calmly as possible. 

“We were supposed to sign papers last week, but of course you didn’t show!” Bucky continued angrily. Steve had cowered back into the hallway. 

“I was on a fucking mission-”

“Oh, that’s great, that means Fury lied to me about where you were. You got him on your side too?” countered Bucky. 

“You shot him several times, it’s not my fault he doesn’t like you,” you reminded him loudly. “Why were you talking to Fury about me anyways? Don’t you know how crazy that is, talking to my boss about where I am?”

Bucky was not impressed. “You know what’s crazy? This shit about staying with the Avengers. The only reason you’re with the Avengers is because of me.”

“And you’ve made that perfectly clear!” you cried out. You took a second to compose yourself. You ran your hands through your hair, then waived your hand out in front of you, trying to find the right words. 

“You brought me to the Avengers,” you said firmly. “But I’m years away from where we started.”

Bucky shook his head. He was so angry you could see it burning in his eyes. you could see it in the stiffness of his shoulders and his clenched fists. “I should’ve never brought you into my life,” he spat. He said it so easily, so effortlessly, like hurting you was on his agenda. 

You kept a stern look on your face, only spoiled by the tears of frustration welling up in your eyes. “Then we finally agree about something.”

Bucky kept his glance on your for a few seconds. If you didn’t know better, you’d think you saw a touch of regret on the corners of his eyes. When he finally broke eye contact, he turned on his heels and walked away. 

You spent the following hours at the bar, taking in as many drinks as you could get your hands on. You could see Bucky across the room the whole time, pretending like nothing had happened. You hated the way he talked to you, he talked to you in a way you never would’ve imagined he was even capable of. 

You had felt so good about yourself before the party, after the adrenaline-pumping mission and the rousing job offer from Monica. All of that was gone. 

“Another one?” asked Natasha from behind the bar.

“Hmm? Oh, sure. Thanks.” You we’re barely paying attention to Nat. All you could focus on was Bucky, who was talking up some model.

Natasha topped off your drink. She looked from you, to Bucky, then back to you. “Geez, don’t stare or anything.”

Bucky made eye contact with you from across the room. His glance lingered for a moment before he went back to his conversation with the supermodel.

Nat snapped her fingers in front of your face, and you finally pried your eyes away.

“Seriously,” said Nat. “It’s not good for you.”

“You’re right.” You picked up your drink and downed the whole thing, letting the liquor burn your throat. You paused for a second, letting the alcohol set in. “Who is that chick anyways?” you asked.

Natasha paused. She took a sip of her own drink before speaking. “I heard that little argument you two had earlier.”

You turned to face Nat, your cheeks a little flushed. Mostly from the alcohol. “You did?”

Natasha nodded. “Yeah, we share a wall. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you responded flatly. You turned back to face the model Bucky was talking to. You eyed her up and down. “I’m totally fine.”

“Right,” said Natasha slowly. “Well I’m going to talk with Clint since you’re so fine.” She stood up, but had to add something before she walked away. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

Your face burned with jealously as you watched the model laugh at something Bucky said. You wondered if he was talking to her because he wanted to get with her or just because he knew it would piss you off.

Bucky looked over at you again. This time he held the glance as you turned and moved away from the bar and towards the elevators. You felt his eyes on you as you walked away.

You stood in front of the elevators and pressed the down button, waiting to see if Bucky would follow. The elevator dinged and you got ready to step on. When there doors opened, two hands wrapped around your waist and they forced you into a nearby hallway.

“Bucky-“

“Shut up.”

He lead you down the dimly lit hallway until the sounds of the party were barely audible.

Bucky grabbed you and forced your lips against his. You grinned in satisfaction as he lifted you onto the table and rocked his hips against yours. His tongue snaked in and out of your mouth as he felt your body. You opened your legs and his hand made it’s way downwards.

His fingers slipped between your folds and he started moving them in and out, stroking your g spot every time. You moaned in ecstasy and arched your back, and Bucky attached his lips to your neck, leaving love marks up and down your skin.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he murmured in your ear.

Bucky wrapped his arms around you and continued to leave hickey on your skin, his lips venturing lower and lower. He unzipped the back of your dress and the straps fell past your shoulders, and he instantly started leaving marks on your breasts.

“God, Bucky,” you moaned. You wrapped a leg around his torso, pulling him closer. He stuck a leg in between yours, giving you some sort of friction. You pressed against him as hard as you could. “Fuck... I need you so bad.”

He pulled back and gave you a devilish grin. In a split second he took his belt off and unbuttoned his pants, revealing his erect member. He guided himself in between your legs, and you let out an erotic moan as he slid inside you.

“Oh, Buck,” you moaned loudly. He pushed you against the wall as he thrust in and out. He wrapped his arms around you, then pushed his lips against yours. You could barely focus on his lips when he was fucking you so hard.

“Bucky!” you called out, feeling yourself on the verge of climax. Your legs went weak. Buck’s movements only sped up. Bucky steadied your hips with both hands and continued to work.

“Come for me baby,” he hissed in your ear. His tone was almost possessive.

That’s all he had to say. With one more thrust, your liquids coated his member, and he grinned with content. But his movements didn’t stop. Instead, he sped up.

“Bucky,” you murmured again as he thrust into your overstimulated pussy, his name on your lips like a prayer. You hid your face in the crook of his neck. You let out a quiet moan as your whole body was became weak. For a second everything was like it was before. You were his, and he was yours.

Bucky’s fingers found your clit and it send you over the edge again. His movements finally slowed and he released into you.

He started kissing you again, this time gently. His hands roamed up and down your body in admiration. “Y/n?” he said, softly and sweetly. It was different than he had talked to you in a long time. It was a tone that you thought he might’ve forgotten how to use with you. You knew it was temporary, but you didn’t care.

“Mm?” you responded gently, wrapping his arms around his neck. 

“I wanna see you in my bed tonight.”

And in the moment, that’s all you wanted to do. You didn’t care about anything else. All you wanted was for Bucky to fuck you again and again. “Mm,” you murmured. “Yeah, me too.”

\- . - 


	4. the next chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> :')

Your breakfast consisted of Clint’s cold leftovers and a protein shake. Bucky was gone when you woke up, he probably went out on a run or was spending some time in the gym. You didn’t really care. You had a pretty terrible hangover.

Clint suddenly came bounding into the kitchen. “I was going to eat that,” he announced cheerfully. 

“No you weren’t,” you mumbled. You rested your elbow on the counter and your chin in your palm. Needless to say, you weren’t in a good mood. You had a pen in your hand and a notepad in front of you, and you were wracking your brain trying to think of the right words to write down. 

Clint paused, then looked you up and down. “You smell like break up sex.”

You paused before smelling the blue t-shirt that you had thrown on. It was the first one you grabbed off of the floor. “Who told you? Was it Nat?”

“I think everyone has their suspicions,” Clint continued. “Nobody buys the whole ‘moved to Jersey for Shield’ act. Nobody goes to Jersey by choice.”

You made a quiet _pft_ sound. Clint thought he was being funny. “Have any advice for me?” you asked, keeping your eyes focused on your cold breakfast.

Clint had some experience with divorce. In fact, he had some experience with being divorced to a Shield agent. He was married to Mockingbird, a highly tried and very deadly agent. He tried to keep things to himself, but Natasha told you every update she had on the situation. 

“If yours is anything like mine, it’s complicated,” he sighed. 

“Damn straight.”

Clint shrugged and cracked his knuckles, which was a nervous habit of his. “I’d just sign the papers as quickly as possible.”

“We’re way past that,” you grumbled. 

You threw your pen across the room, and Clint instinctively snatched it out of the air. 

“Bucky’s lawyer sent over papers a few weeks ago, and for the life of me I couldn’t understand them, so I had to get a lawyer. They’re expensive as hell by the way, did you know that?”

Clint nodded. 

“With that and the mediator, I’m gonna go broke after this,” you mumbled.

Clint raised his eyebrows a little. “What does a mediator even do?”

“He’s supposed to help us get along so we can figure out who gets what,” you sighed. “But the first session was absolute shit. We’re supposed to meet again tomorrow morning.”

You held your hand out for the pen, and Clint tossed it back to you. You clicked it a few times. “We’re supposed to think of things we love- or I guess loved about each other, like it’s supposed to make us stop arguing.”

“I mean, I kinda see where he’s coming from. Plus, you guys were the ultimate love story, it should be pretty easy, right?” Clint thought he was being funny again.

“Yeah we were,” you scoffed. 

“Hey, I remember why I fell in love with Bobbi,” said Clint, offering you a smile. “She was super badass and hot, especially in those old school Shield uniforms.”

You were unamused. “That was profound, Clint.” 

“I loved her, I really did,” Clint said a little more seriously. “And maybe I’ll always love her. But that’s okay, you know? Anyways, you’ll think of something, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you said with a sympathetic smile. “I guess I will.” You knew what he felt for Bobbi. Literally. 

“Think of it like you’re renewing your vows,” Clint suggested. “Or like- like this is the last thing you could ever say to him. You’d have to say good things to him, right?”

You raised your eyebrows. You were surprised that Clint had something useful to say, something vaguely knowledgeable. “Right.” 

The last things you would say to him. What would you say to him if you knew you’d never see him again? It wouldn’t be some petty argument, or some half hearted declaration, you knew you’d have to reminisce, and work to tell him how much you love, or at the very least, loved him.

\- . -

The next day, you found yourself back in the mediator’s office. You noticed he had a pretty good view from his office, you could just barely see Avenger’s tower from his window. You finished your list late last night. You ended up writing it on a little notepad, taking up a few off the small pages with your messy writing. 

You glanced over at Bucky, who was holding a wrinkled piece of notebook paper with marks of blue pen on both sides. One thing you had in common was that you both had terrible handwriting. 

“So,” said the mediator. He was sitting across from you and Buck in an upholstered, cream colored chair. “Who wants to start?”

You looked over at Bucky, and he briefly met your glance. He then looked at the ground, then back at the mediator. You anxiously flipped through your notepad.

“Remember, we’re doing this to so you’re both reminded that this is a person who you had great feelings for,” the mediator reminded you both. “So you make decisions out of love, instead of hate.”

Bucky looked unamused. 

“I guess I’ll start,” you said quietly. You flipped open your notebook, and you felt your heart beating out of your chest. This was more nerve-wracking than any job interview, and mission, anything that you had done before.

The mediator nodded with approval. Bucky didn’t look up. 

“What I love about Bucky,” you started slowly, trying to keep your breathing even. “I met him in a training Shield facility after a two week mission. I was upset the mission didn’t go to plan and I needed to blow off some steam. I was sweaty and exhausted, and I needed a shower, but he still came in and looked at me like I was the prettiest girl in the world. I thought it was crazy that someone so... so like him would even notice me.” 

You turned the page and briefly looked over at Bucky, who was looking down at his hands in his lap. You felt a lump growing in your throat. 

“I love that he doesn’t care if I’m wearing makeup or not, but he still appreciates it when I do,” you continued softly. “He stays calm in times of crisis, which gives us a balance because I tend to spin out. I used to not be able to train with him one on one because he made me laugh too much.”

“He’s driven and focused, and he’d do anything to protect me.” You turned to Buck, and he finally made eye contact with you. His eyes widened a little, and you almost saw a touch of melancholy in his expression. “He let me into his found family, and I’ll be forever grateful for that,” you finished. 

You closed your notepad. “That- that’s it.” You couldn’t look at Buck, you looked at your shoes instead. 

“Okay,” said the mediator in a positive voice. “That was good, thank you for sharing, y/n. Bucky?”

You heard the quiet crinkling of paper, then Bucky readjusting in his seat. 

“What I love about y/n,” he said in an even tone. “She’s driven, hardworking, and tough. That was the first thing I noticed about her. I saw her training at the Shield facility every night, and I had to ask around for her name.” He cleared his throat, which is something he did when he had to say something he didn’t want to. “She’s empathetic, she feels everything really deeply. She can see everyone’s perspectives, which I could never do.” 

He sniffled, and you whipped your head around and realized he was emotional. “She’s not fragile, she doesn’t fall apart,” he continued. “She always rises to the occasion.”

You felt tears welling up in your own eyes. You didn’t think he’d have anything good written down about you. 

Bucky’s glance met yours. “She’s beautiful. I think she’s beautiful.” He said it with conviction, like you still meant the world to him. 

You felt a few tears trickle down your cheeks, and you quickly wiped them away. Bucky looked at his feet and sniffled again. You took a second to feel everything, to feel the loss, and also to remember how much you loved him. 

“Bucky?” you said gently, trying to stop your voice from quivering. 

He looked up at you with big, sympathetic eyes, the way he used to look at you when you were mad at him, or when he knew he had done wrong. 

“I’m taking the position at Sword,” you murmured through tears. 

You waited for his reaction. For a second, his face said that he’d miss you. His eyes were full of longing, and his expression was still. It seemed like the first time he looked sad about losing you.

Suddenly, he gave you a half hearted smile. “I’m happy for you,” he vocalized, his eyes watering. 

You laughed in spite of yourself. You wrapped your arms around yourself and let the tears trickle down your face. “Thank you, Buck. So much.”

\- . -

Three months later, you were working your new job at Sword, and you couldn’t be happier. You were recruiting new agents, new wide-eyed and excited candidates. Training at Sword was a little different from the training at Shield, as many Sword agents were sent into space. That aspect was definitely new to you. 

You worked in a high rise, similar to the Shield building in DC. You had an office that was almost as big as Fury’s, except you decorated it with fuzzy rugs and soft furniture, which Fury would never do in a million years. 

You were finishing up some paperwork when there was a knock on your office door. “Yeah, come in,” you chimed, still focusing on the papers in front of you. 

There was a distinctive click of boots against the concrete floor. You looked up to see Steve Rogers, fully clad in his Captain America stealth gear, standing in front of you. 

“Steve!” you exclaimed, jumping up from your seat. You came out from behind your desk and gave him a warm hug. “How is everything? What are you doing here?”

“Hey, y/n,” he said with a smile. “Sword asked for some help for a Hydra related issue, and Fury volunteered me.”

“Of course he did,” you laughed. “You going to visit the space station?” 

“Definitely not,” remarked Steve. 

You chuckled at his response. You hadn’t been to the Sword space station either, space was just a little too much travel for you. Plus, you read about people who’ve had their entire cellular makeup altered by space-related accidents. 

“I should be done with this in a day or two, should we get coffee after?” asked Steve in a suspiciously soft tone. He had his arms crossed against his chest. He only used that tone when he had something difficult to say. 

You looked up at him in anticipation. “Yeah, for sure,” you responded with wide eyes. 

Steve looked out one of your many windows before reaching into his brown leather bag and pulling out a cream colored envelope with your name scrawled onto the back. 

“Bucky asked me to give this to you,” he said gently, as if he knew how it would affect you. He watched as you carefully examined the envelope. 

You ran your fingers over the dark lettering; it looked like it was written with a fountain pen. The envelope came from a stationary set that Pepper had bought you and Bucky one Christmas. You and Buck almost never wrote letters, so the stationary set remained unused for years.

Steve gave you a sympathetic expression. “I’ll see you around.”

You didn’t look up from the letter in your hands. “Yeah, I’ll see you.”

With that, Steve turned and left the room, closing the door quietly behind him. 

You opened the envelope, careful not to tear the paper. The letter inside had Bucky’s messy handwriting scrawled onto the surface in the same thick lettering. 

You didn’t think you were ready for whatever the letter said, but you started reading anyways. 

_Y/n,_

_I was going to call, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. You don’t have to make fun of me for writing a letter, Clint already covered that base for you._

_I told you I regretted being with you. I wanted to make sure you knew that wasn’t true. I say a lot of things when I’m mad._

_You changed my life. I know I forced you to see how I changed your life, but you changed my life too. You brought me comfort when I was scared, and you taught me how to live with myself. You taught me how to be both Bucky and the Winter Soldier, and that’s something I desperately needed._

_I think that we weren’t meant for each other, and I think maybe that’s okay. That doesn’t mean I don’t love you. Maybe I’ll always be in love with you, and maybe you’ll always be in love with me. And that’s okay._

_I don’t regret meeting you. You helped make me whole, and somewhere in the process you became whole yourself. I couldn’t be happy for you before, but I’m happy for you now._

_So, with love,_

_Bucky._

“Shit,” you murmured to yourself quietly. Bucky had come around. He wasn’t the same person he was before, but he was still him. There was almost a touch of who he was as your husband in his writing. 

For the first time in months he seemed to remember what he gained out of the marriage, instead of what was wrong with it. And he was right; you’d always be in love with him, at least a little bit.

You realized a few tears had trickled down your cheeks, but you were happy nonetheless. This is what you needed from him. This is what you were waiting for. 

“Y/n?” called Monica, peaking her through your office doorway. “Are you ready to greet the new recruits?”

“Yeah,” you sniffled. You carefully put the letter back into the cream colored envelope and looked over the lettering on the outside once more. You opened one of your desk drawers, the one filled with pictures and trinkets from your days with the Avengers, and gingerly placed the letter on top of an old photo album. 

You wiped your eyes as you got up from your seat and turned for the exit. 

Monica’s brows knit together at the sight of your puffy eyes. “Are- are you okay?” she asked.

“Yeah,” you replied with an authentic, beaming smile. “I’m great.”

\- . -


End file.
